The Birthday Party
by Lalaithe
Summary: Imoen considers her life as a maid and the people of Candlekeep. Pre-BG1.


Author's Note: This is a little story about Imoen's life at Candlekeep, taking place about a year before she and her foster brother Finn hit the road. I have a slightly different image of life at the keep than is projected in the games and some elements have changed. Imoen's age is one; she's a few years younger than the PC here to make her a true little sister.

Credits: All Bioware characters are copyright Bioware. Finn is mine.

...

"Gods!"

_Cough_

"Why"

_Cough_

"Can't"

_Thump_

"Anybody"

_Thump_

"Wipe"

_Thump_

"Their"

_Thump_

"Feet?"

_Achoo!_

Stupid rugs. They're supposed to be classy folk here. The finest minds from north, south, east and west. Well, not so much west. You wouldn't know though by the dirt they track in. They might as well save time and just walk over me. Look at my dress, I'll need to use the broom on myself next. _Hmm_...

"_The damsel beat every last speck of dust out of the rugs, the dirt flying to her like lost children to their mother."_

Hey that's pretty good, I should write it down. Later. I save all the paper I can and one of these days I'm gonna write a book. I'm not sure on what yet, but I'm going to write it.

_Thump_

_Thump_

"Take that, foul fiend! Never again shall you threaten the innocents of the Candlekeep Inn!"

_THUMP_

"Slice, thrust, parry!"

_THUMP_

"And thus with a mighty stroke of her blade, the great heroine Imoen vanquished the terrible paisley patterned dragon!"

...

"_Oi, Imoen!_ Keep it down to a low roar, girl! The guests like to hear themselves think!"

And there's Winthrop, sticking his big head out the window.

"Sorry!"

That's the trouble with this place. Nobody appreciates _creativity_. I never thought books were boring but seeing how reading a lot of them makes act you I start to wonder. That doesn't explain Winthrop, though. Don't think he's ever turned a page in his life except for the old almanac. Guess some people are just like that.

Rats! Now I can't remember what I wanted to write down. Oh, well. I'm done, anyway. The rest of the dust can wait till next time. Not like it's going anywhere, right? It's too hot for this, the sun's not even halfway up and already I'm sweating like a horse. I need a drink of something.

...

I head back inside and take a quick look around. Nobody's in sight, even the old elf Firebead is missing from his perch by the fire and he hardly ever budges an inch. I think he must've read every book in the library about ten times over in the years he's been here, but that never stops him from reading some more. He sometimes lets me return them to the keep after he's done; really he's just giving me a chance to read, which is sweet. The books aren't supposed to leave the library but he's so important they make an exception for him.

I don't know why he's so respected, unless living to be about a thousand earns him some points. I've heard stories though. Some say he once tricked a dragon from burning the keep to the ground. Others say he's some great elven hero and his magic saved half of Faerun a long time ago. I don't know about that. He's a nice fellow, but an epic hero? All I really know is he likes fruit porridge at dawn, a pot of rose tea at three, a goblet of elverquisst at seven and a platter of vegetables in light sauce at ten.

Heading to the bar I help myself to a little of Winthrop's best ale. It'll never be missed. What do those readers need it for, anyway? Not like they work up a sweat sitting hunched over a book for hours on end. But I no sooner raise the mug when I hear Puffguts come bounding down the stairs, or as close to 'bounding' as a fellow his size can get. 'Booming' maybe, that's better. He's going so fast I barely have time to hide the tankard.

"Them rugs done? I need you to hop over to the stables, get some clean straw."

"Yes, Winthrop," I say, trying to sound innocent. Fools no one, I know.

At least I avoided the lecture about 'eyeconomy' this time. All the coin this place earns and to listen to Winthrop go on about it you'd think we were on the verge of famine. You wouldn't guess it by the size of him, though. He does love his pork pies. Not that I'm one to talk, I suppose. Vera feeds her 'growing girl' enough for an army. There's only one way I'm growing, and it's not up!

...

I grab a wet rag and try to get some of the dirt off my face, and one swipe of the rag tells me it's all turned to mud with the sweat. Yuck. If I stand on tip-toe I can just see myself in the big mirror over the mantle so I go and have a look, fearing the worst. I'm really worried that I'm not gonna get any taller. I just know one of these days I'm going to look in that mirror and see a tall, willowy lady. It could happen, right? But today it's just the same old me—round face, wide eyes and freckles.

My hair's in a state too, it looks like I ducked my head in the trough. But it's a pretty colour, everyone says so. Except Finn, he keeps calling me 'ginger'. It is _not_ red. It's auburn. There's a difference! But wait—am I dreaming? No, the freckles are fading! The lemon juice must be working. Good thing Vera's a bit more understanding about these things than her husband. Winthrop'd have a fit if he knew where the pricey fruit was going.

...

"The sun's not going to hold still while you admire yourself," Winthrop calls over. "Remember vanity's a sin."

Vanity, give me a break. Who could be vain with freckles? But I scoot out the door anyway. Now, I know that Winthrop actually meant for me to go to the stables inside the keep's walls, but he didn't actually _say_ so. So I decide to take a little detour. It's too nice a day to think of work.

I check to see the coast is clear then dart off for the keep gate. The portcullis is up and the drawbridge down over the empty moat like it always is in the daytime. I don't know why they bother to raise it at all, must just be to give the guards something to do. I can see a pair of them snoozing on their feet right now. Honestly, I think their pikes are just to keep them propped up! Sometimes I wish barbarian hordes would attack the place, just to make things interesting. That or wolves. Dire wolves. Sometimes I can hear wolves howling in the forest at night, far away. But even they give this place the cold shoulder.

Outside the keep and down the hill there's more signs of life. The little village of Candlekeep grew up just for the folks lucky enough to get inside the walls. There's the blacksmith, the miller, the brewer among others; a few farms, a few sheep, that's it—only what they need to keep the fortress fed. But these are real folks, though. You don't need to walk on eggshells around them, afraid to ever crack a smile or tell a joke. I wish the inn were outside the keep's walls, but Winthrop's place is there to give warms beds and fires to the readers, not cater to the locals. They have their own little inn for that.

Every once in awhile Winthrop lets me go down to the inn though, and I sit and listen to the drivers trying to out-do each other with their tales. I'd love to join in but I don't have any tales of my own, just stories I've read. Maybe some day. Candlekeep is really important and people come here from all over Faerun for a chance to read and to taste my fabulous pottages. I'm kidding on the last one, obviously. The only time anyone notices my cooking is if I've overdone it on the cloves. That doesn't happen much. I used to study magic and got used to measuring everything out just so, unlike Vera who just grabs up handfuls of everything. Course she's been at it so long she gets it right anyway.

I keep telling myself that I'm going to head out some day, find my way in the world like Finn's going to. But that's just a daydream, isn't it? I'm going to be an innkeeper, and that's all. I shouldn't moan, I know lots of people do worse. What would I really do anyway, go to another hot kitchen and work from sunup to sundown? And I don't look like anyone's definition of an adventurer, that's for sure.

...

There's at least one good thing about Candlekeep, though. I'm not really sure when I started to think Ned was cute. I used to hate him! Always walking around with that little smile on his face, never saying a thing. But he's all right. Nobody's idea of a knight, but he's nice. Ned's the smithy's apprentice who came here a few years ago. Probably hard at work now, but I duck into the smith's anyway.

"Hey Imoen," he says, smiling as much as he can without dropping the nails he's got in his mouth.

"Hiya." Gods, am I blushing?

"Did Winthrop let you loose for the day?"

"Afraid not. I just need some straw."

I give him a grin and hope I don't look too stupid.

"Oh, right, I'll…help you," he says, looking at his master.

The smith Belman kind of looks like he's going to tell his nephew to get back to work but changes his mind.

"Don't take but a minute," he says, turning back to the forge.

He almost looks like he's smiling. _Eek!_ I'm completely embarrassed now. Way to be subtle, Imoen.

...

I follow Ned out to the stables and he starts doing up some straw in a bundle for me. He's got straw caught in his hair, which is dusty anyway from working in the forge. It's curly and brown and goes all over the place. It's kind of cute though, I like it. Ned doesn't say anything, he never does have much to say for himself. It drives me crazy, and makes me talk even more than usual! I know I'm a chatterbox, I never could help it. But he doesn't seem to mind. At least, I don't think he does. How can you tell?

"That's a fine mare you were shoeing," I say. Horses Ned is always happy to talk about.

"Aye, she is," he says, looking up with that little smile. "A fine team. Her mate's up at the keep. She threw a shoe on the way here, lucky she didn't go lame. The smith what shod her did a lazy job of it. I don't know about these city smiths, can't think they ever really know animals like we do in the country."

"No."

I'd give anything to find out, though. Baldur's Gate is the only city I've seen and even that was from a distance.

"Do you think you'll go back to Beregost when your apprenticeship is finished?"

Don't know why I asked that. He's not going anywhere anytime soon.

"I don't know," he shrugs. "I suppose it depends on whether uncle wants me to stay here, take over from him one day."

"But what do you want to do?"

"Be a smith, I reckon. Dad's a farmer and it's good work but it depends too much on the weather. I don't need to worry about frost or rain to shoe horses or work the forge. Besides, with four brothers there's not much land to pass on. Best I learned another trade."

"But wouldn't you get bored here? The village isn't very big."

Neither is Beregost, so I've heard. But it's bigger than this place.

"What's that matter? Everything a man needs is here, and there's always travellers passing through to keep up the trade."

"True," I say.

I'll admit Candlekeep is miles better than my old home, that run-down inn where Gorion found me living with my adopted aunt and uncle. At least I feel like I've got a place here—back at the old inn they couldn't wait to get rid of me. Well, maybe that's harsh. They had kids of their own to feed and I was just a foundling. Literally. My uncle just found me by the roadside, apparently, no basket or anything. It's a wonder I was even alive. My aunt and uncle weren't perfect people but it was good of them to raise me all those years when they didn't have to. Still they couldn't have loved me too much to let me go like they did, I guess.

"Imoen?"

_"Hm?"_

"Here."

Ned's smiling at me and I feel like an idiot for not noticing he's finished and handed me the bundle. He helps me balance it on my back and I bend over like an old lady.

"Can you manage that? It's heavy."

"I'll be alright," I try and grunt.

"Good. Oh, wait—wait just a minute, will you?"

...

Ned runs off and I let the bundle down with a thump. He's gone long enough that I start to worry that I'll hear Winthrop bellowing from the ramparts but finally he comes back. He's trying to hide something but he gives it to me with a little smile.

"I made this…I thought you might like it. I make lots of things, don't have much use for them though, you see…"

In my hands is a perfect little carved horse. It's so lifelike I can almost feel it breathing.

"Oh, Ned…thank you!" I give him the biggest goofy grin, I know. "It's beautiful."

He doesn't say anything else but helps me with the bundle again, the little smile still on his face. I put the horse in my skirt pocket and head off, giving him a quick goodbye. I'm so pleased I don't even care about the looks I get from people. It's old lady Imoen, who cares? Ned gave me a present!

...

Somehow I manage to get the straw back, ending up twice as sweaty as when I left. Vera appears in the door, practically having to turn sideways to get her wide frame through.

"Child, where have you been? Winthrop's howling."

"Sorry, Vera, I—"

"Never mind. Just drop that straw, I need you to run to the apothecary. We need more bitter root. I don't know what's got into my head, I plain forgot."

"But—"

"Just go! I'll deal with this here."

I drop the straw with a sigh. Bitter root, what's got into her? I don't see what's so important about bitter root that it can't wait. But I can't complain, least I can put off tacking down the rugs for awhile.

...

The apothecary's in the Temple of Oghma on the other side of the keep. I can't help peeking through the gate of the inner keep whenever I walk by. Only the readers and monks are allowed in there. Or at least, are _supposed_ to be in there. Some of us still manage to find ways inside, you know.

I stand there for a few minutes, looking up at the big white tower and the perfect knotwork herb and flower gardens that I can smell in the heat. Except for the monks chanting Alaundo's prophecies it's so quiet you'd never know a soul was in the place. I listen to them repeating the same old refrain.

_"The Lord of Murder shall perish, but in his death he shall spawn a score of mortal progeny…"_

Weirdos. I don't need to repeat something every day to remember it, why do they? Every day, the same old thing. You'd think they'd get bored. Suddenly life as an innkeeper doesn't seem so bad.

The guard gently implies that I should be somewhere else so I move. I wonder if my brother Finn is on duty today. He's not really my brother, that's obvious just to look at us. But Gorion always told us to think of each other as siblings. When we were kids we spent lots of time together but I don't see so much of him since he joined the Watchers and I went to the inn. Even so he always pops up somewhere, usually at the kitchen bothering me for something to eat.

At the apothecary the little old chemist measures out the root while I lean on the counter, looking at all the jars filled with every kind of flower, root and herb. I can still remember what a lot of them are used for, outside a kitchen that is. I really wish they hadn't stopped my magic lessons. I liked it so much, then one day Gorion says I'm moving to the inn, and _pfft_. That's it. I could see maybe how having a couple of kids in the monastery was a hassle, but why did I have to give up the lessons too? It was Finn that wanted to quit, not me.

I know it's a blessing for someone like me to get taken in, taught to read and write, and set up for a fair life as the landlady of a nice inn. Nobody had to do those things, and I don't half wonder why they did sometimes. Winthrop always says true charity's a rare thing. It's hard to complain, I don't want to complain, but...I still feel like an afterthought sometimes.

...

Walking back I see this fancy black carriage with all its curtains drawn pulling into the keep. I imagine it belongs to a mysterious lady, who's travelling far and wide searching for a cure for her lover's curse that was placed on him by a jealous sorcerer. A footman opens the door and a chubby old lord steps out. Ah, well, it was a nice dream.

"_Heey!"_

Suddenly I'm pulled off my feet and the world turns upside down. I can feel all the blood rushing to my face and I shout as loud as I can.

"_Put me down! Finn!_"

I can't see who's got me but there's no one else who'd grab me like that!

"Who said that? I don't see anybody."

"_Fiiiinn!_ I'm not kidding!"

Even upside-down I can see guards laughing at me. What does he think I am, ten years old?

"Okay, okay."

...

The world turns back and I feel dizzy. It's my brother all right, tall as a tree. I keep telling him if he gets any taller we'll have to cut a hole in the roof. Why'd I end up so short? I guess eating nothing but porridge twice a day as a kid isn't good for the height. Finn's grinning at me like a demon though and I give him a punch in the arm.

"Your own fault for not paying attention. I was right behind you and you never noticed!"

"Didn't realise I needed to keep an eye out for ambushes," I say, making sure my skirt is all the way down. "Aren't you on duty?"

"Not today!"

"I thought you'd be down the village then. What are you hanging around here for?"

"What, a fellow can't spend some quality time annoying his little sister?"

"A fellow can, but he usually spends his quality time elsewhere," I tease.

"Yeah, well, Suzanne seems to think I said something I didn't so I might be giving the pub a miss for awhile."

"What have you done now?"

"Nothing!"

"Yeah, right."

I saw him sneaking out of the stables with one of Lady Ilydian's maids the other eve, and I doubt they were talking about horses. I wouldn't be much surprised if some angry father marched Finn up to the temple one of these days. I think he's picking up too many bad habits from the other guards. He drinks more ale than's good for him, that's for certain. It worries me sometimes, to be honest.

"Hey, you dropped something."

Finn bends down and picks up the little horse that's fallen out of my pocket. I snatch it away quick as I can.

"Oh, no! Finn, if that's broken, I swear…"

Thankfully it was still in one piece.

"Where'd you get that?"

"Nowhere," I say, tucking it back in my pocket.

"So it's gotten to the gift-giving stage, has it? Think I'll have to drop down to the village, make sure a certain apprentice has honourable intentions towards my sister," he laughs.

"Don't you dare!" I say, but I can see he's kidding.

"Never mind. Why don't we go down to the shore?"

"I don't know, I'm sure there's work for me to do. And Vera wants this root."

"They can spare you for awhile. Come on!"

He drags me along before I have a chance to argue. Not that I needed much persuading.

...

We follow the path down through the trees to the place where the old steps are carved into the cliff side. There used to be a stone pier heading out to sea but it's been abandoned for an age or two. Now it's just a crumbly seaweed-covered ruin, lashed by the waves. Sometimes when the tide went out Finn and me would pick our way over the slippery rocks, jumping from block to block. I fell in once, I'm lucky I didn't bash my head open. I really wish the pier was still whole; I can't imagine how much fun it would be having ships docking at Candlekeep.

The instant I'm on the beach though I feel completely free. You can actually feel the size of the world looking out at the ocean. We wander around on the shingles for awhile, running into the water and coming straight out again 'cause it's absolutely freezing. I always like picking up things that wash on shore and looking into the pools left by the sea. It's like a whole little ocean in there, with the seaweed floating and the little crabs and fish that're stranded there till the tide comes again.

I can still remember the first time I saw the sea. Gorion took me up on a tower after we came to Candlekeep and he couldn't tear me away for hours. I'd never seen anything so big. It was scary and pretty at the same time. When Finn and me were younger he'd take us down to the shore quite a bit. I can still see him there, sitting on a rock, watching us run around like idiots.

Now that I think of it, it must've been pretty uncomfortable for the old man to sit there for hours. But he did it because he knew we liked it there, and he never said a word of complaint. He'd just smile in that stuffy way of his and wave. He knew the names of all the shells we'd find. I couldn't believe it when he told me that you could hear the ocean in a shell. I've still got a few of them that I picked up when I was a kid.

...

After awhile Finn and I sit down on the rocks, watching the waves rolling in. It's chillier down on the coast and I hug my shoulders to keep warm. Out in the distance I see a big ship looking like a white bird floating on the water. I always wondered who was on those ships. Who they are, where they were going.

"Do you ever think sometimes, about the people you'll meet?" I ask.

"What do you mean?"

"Like in the future. I do, sometimes. The people I'll meet, what they're doing right now. It's weird to think that somewhere out there are people that we'll know, but we don't know them now, and they don't know us."

"I suppose so," he smiles, giving me a bit of that 'Imoen's got her head in the clouds' look.

"Course, you'll meet a lot more people than I will. Are you still thinking of leaving next year?"

"Definitely! I'm sick of hanging around here. Soon as I'm twenty-one, I'm gone."

I don't answer him. I don't want him to leave. I kind of felt myself falling a little ever since he said for sure that's what he was going to do. I have Winthrop and Vera and Gorion even, but somehow Finn's leaving makes me feel—left behind. I can't imagine the keep without him.

"Hey, I'll write to you. All the time! And I'll come back to visit."

He seemed to notice my face wasn't exactly springing with joy.

"I know. But it won't be the same here."

He gives me a little hug.

"You could leave too, you know. You don't have to stay."

"Where am I gonna go? I don't know anyone. It's all good for you, you can be a mercenary or something. Besides, I'd feel bad leaving Winthrop and Vera in the lurch. No, I'm stuck here."

"Rumour has it that Ned's been teaching you the finer art of lockpicking," he teases.

"Oh, that was just something for…conversation. And it was locksmithing, not lockpicking!" I can feel my cheeks getting hotter though.

"Big difference," he grins.

"Shut up." I ruffle up his dark hair. He can be such a slob. "Your hair's too long. Get it cut!"

"Says you!"

Okay, I admit I still scream like a little girl when he tickles me. Big deal.

...

We stay for awhile longer. Looking over the cliff I'm sure I can see the steam coming out of Puffgut's ears though so I say we should go back. All the way back Finn keeps grinning at me like the cat with the canary.

"What's up?"

"Nothing. Not a thing."

"Liar. You just can't wait to see Winthrop boil me alive."

"That must be it. Keep moving!"

I do start to get a bit nervous when I see Winthrop hanging around outside the inn. When he sees me he lets out a blast like I've never heard.

"_Imoen!_ Get yourself inside, _now! _Vera wants you in the kitchen."

"Okay," I say, all meek. I'm really in for it.

Walking into the kitchen though I'm bowled over. The place is all done up with flowers and there's food all over the table. In the middle is a big sugar-frosted cake, and it hits me before anyone can say anything.

"_Happy Birthday!_"

Oh gods, I can't believe I forgot! Vera gives me a big smile and a kiss.

"Happy birthday, dear. I can't believe you're sixteen already! Where's the time go?"

Geez, she almost looks like she's gonna cry. Don't start, Vera, or you'll set me off! That would be so embarrassing.

Winthrop gives me a little pat on the shoulder and I'll be damned if _he_ doesn't look misty, too! Finn just laughs and gives me a hug.

"Yes, all the best for the next year," Gorion says, rising up onto his walking stick. It really is an occasion if he came down from the monastery just for my party, I'll say.

"Indeed. I seem to recall tumbling down our villa steps into my mother's treasured orchids when I was around sixteen, though you seem to have mastered the art of walking faster than I did," Firebead says cheerfully.

"I fear I've lost some of that art, myself," Gorion says with a rare smile.

"You are not the only one, my friend," Firebead replies, helping himself to a cup of tea.

We all sit down to eat and who knocks on the door but Ned, looking like one of the farmer's sheep, if sheep could turn pink, that is. Finn's the only one not surprised to see him and I want to give my brother a happy squeeze. There's so many presents, too! I get a new dress and some oranges from Vera and Winthrop, and Gorion even gives me a book! _Tales From The Desert Lands_. A brand new book, all my own. Firebead gives me a little enchanted metal box; whatever you put inside only appears again if you say an incantation. And Finn's present is this wooden tube that the priests of Oghma made—if you hold it up to the light and turn it you can see all these different coloured crystals changing patterns. I've never seen anything like it.

I look around at everyone eating and laughing and at the old kitchen all covered with spring flowers, and I think maybe home's not so bad, after all. I'll have to write that down. Later.


End file.
